in your eyes
by Xxbubble gum girlxX
Summary: katherine peterson has not had a good life she is always called ugly but she is soon going to find out she is beautiful


In your eyes,

I'm the criminal.

All that I do,

is a crime.

All that I do

Is some kind of ploy;

Some way to sabotage your efforts

To be a perfect parent.

In your eyes,

I'm not a perfect child.

I'm the failure.

I'm the rebel.

In your eyes,

I'm the brat.

The annoyance.

The bitch.

The waste of space.

I'm a bitch.

I've built up my walls.

I let no one too close anymore.

I will snap at the smallest things,

Not knowing why.

The second I believe,

That your making an effort to know me;

It's like a poof of smoke.

And then you're gone.

In your eyes,

I will never compare.

I will never live up to you,

And your perfect childhood.

I will never be the perfect child.

Sometimes I wonder,

If maybe, just maybe,

You're driving me towards my own destruction.

My own demise,

All alone in my walls.

I can feel myself falling,

Falling away.

I'm not the girl I used to be.

I can pretend,

Force a smile,

Fake a laugh.

It's not worth it.

In your eyes,

I'm just making of a failure.

In your eyes,

I'll be sitting alone when I'm old;

No one to die with.

Because I'm the bitch.

The criminal.

I just want someone who cares.

Someone who gives a shit about me.

You tell me,

"We love you."

"We hate to see you unhappy."

If that's so,

Why do you make my life so damn miserable?

In your eyes,

I'm the bitchy girl,

Who gives you headaches,

Gives you problems.

In your eyes, I'm self centered.

I care about nothing but myself.

I don't care about you.

And I don't.

Not anymore.

Not since you began the rampage,

The tug-of-war on my life.

And then you wonder,

Why I no longer confide you.

Everything I put out there,

Every piece of me I release,

You grab for yourself.

I want to be treated like a human.

I'm not a criminal.

I'm not a mastermind,

Plotting to overthrow you.

Not everything I do,

Is to hurt you,

To annoy you.

In your eyes

I am ugly.

I am ragged.

I am trash.

A waste of space.

But I'm about to find out,

That I am beautiful.

"_daddy! Stop it!"Giggled a four year old Katherine Peterson, her dark brown curls bouncing as she squirmed to get out of her father's gentle grasp. Mr. Peterson grinned down before picking her up and swinging her around. Katherine's squeals of delight were music to his ears._

_Finally, he set her down on the soft grass and kissed her forehead affectionately. She collapsed back onto the ground next to her mother, giggling uncontrollably._

_Mr. Peterson sat down next to her wrapping an arm around his wife and daughter. "Look! Pretty lights!" Cried Katherine, clapping her hands excitedly as the fireworks show started overhead._

_Mrs. Peterson smiled and turned to her daughter. Her motherly instincts kicked in as she saw the small child shivering in her pink dress, "Honey, are you cold?" She queried. Katherine nodded furiously, and Mrs. Peterson wrapped a blanket around her tiny shoulders. Pulling Katherine into her lap, Mrs. Peterson sat back and watched the fireworks for the first time as a family._

_As a family. How great that sounded… the Peterson's were still relatively new family. Having gotten pregnant at 18 with her boyfriend's daughter, they decided to get married after the child was born. And everything had worked out perfectly. Except the fact that their parents still had no idea…_

_The little girl yawned, obviously exhausted, and snuggled further into her mother's arms. The young parents laughed softly at their daughter, and began to gather their things._

_Finally arriving at their house, the parents stood over a sleeping Katherine , smiles playing on their lips._

"_Goodnight Kat. Sweet dreams." Whispered Mr. Peterson slipping an arm around his wife's waist. "Happy New Years. We love you."_

_I'm a bitch._

_I've built my walls._

_I let no one too close anymore._

_I will snap at the smallest thing,_

_Not knowing why._

"Katherine, if you don't get up right now I swear to God I'll—Already fully clothed, I threw open the door to face my mother.

"I've been up for hours! Go away!" I told her angrily, all the while buttoning my miniskirt and adjusting my top. She was about to retort when she spotted the low cut of my blouse. She raised an eyebrow, Maria Peterson language for disapproval. Not that I cared, I really didn't have time for this.

"Don't even start." I said warningly, before returning to my closet and rummaging through my clothes. I heard her footsteps behind me and the crack of my bed as she sat. "mother! I just made that!" My mom just rolled her eyes and stood up.

"Jesus Christ, you're so uptight. I was never like that when I was your age. I actually had fun sometimes instead of being frigid." By that time, I had heard this speech way too many times. About how she was the perfect child. The perfect everything.

"MOM!" I cried louder, than intended. She looked at me expectantly while I returned to my closet. "You were the perfect child, I get it. End of story." I snapped. My mom looked though she had been slapped in the face before glaring at me.

"maybe you should appreciate what you aren't." she retorted coldly before leaving. Groaning in frustration, I extracted myself from my closet and slid down the wall. Burying my head in my hands. I hated my life. I really did. Sure, I had the hottest boyfriend, the coolest clothes. The best friends. But none of it mattered. It never did. All I wanted was that glorious feeling I only hear about, that wonderful on-top-of-the-world feeling you only get when your parents are proud of you.

But the last time I had felt like that was in 2nd grade, when I learned how to ride a bike. I bit my bottom lip, trying not to cry at the memory. It had honestly been the best feeling of my life when my parents had patted me on the back, given me a hug, and even given me a card; all to express how proud they were of their daughter.

I used to always wonder who my grandparents were. My parents never talked about them, and there was no sign of them anywhere in the house. I would know, I looked. The year that everything began crashing down around me, the year that home became living hell, the year that my parents began to hate me, was the same exact year that my grandparents found me. It was the same year I learned everything about my parent's past.

My parents eloped at just 18, as soon as they found out they were having me. They left without a word, in the dark of the night, leaving everyone, including their clueless parents. They eventually settled down in Augusta, Maine and had me.

My grandparents disowned my parents when they found me. And they've hated me ever since.

_In your eyes,_

_I'm the brat._

_The annoyance._

_The bitch._

_The waste of space._

"What's your problem?!" I screamed at my dad. He was watching me with that cold, calculating stare of his. I swear to God, I haven't seen any other emotion other than annoyance and anger on him since… well you know. He was tapping his foot as he awaited my explanation. "I went out with my boyfriend is that such a crime?!" I cried throwing my hands up.

He laughed coldly and rolled his eyes at the word "boyfriend". "You think that boy actually likes you?! Why would anyone like you?! No one especially after the way you treat your mother and I." My jaw dropped. He could not be serious. "And especially," he pulled on the edge of my sleeve. "When your dressed like that." Tears pricked my eyes, but I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

"Somebody have a bad day at work?" I asked in a baby voice before turning to my voice to a normal pitch. "'Cause you do this every freaking time you have a bad day."

"This has nothing to do with my day. This is all about what a bitch you're being to me right now." I stifled a sob at his tone, reminding myself he said that every time.

"I'm not the bitch, you are." I told him in a near whisper, as though to myself.

He laughed loudly and looked at me with amusement. "you think that sweetie." And with that, he swept past me and into his office.

I hated him. I hated everything he'd become. Vaguely, I could remember the days when he would randomly pick me up and spend me around. The days when he would hold me until my tears stopped. The days when he loved me. I stood there in silence, my face emotionless. I wanted to stay forever hiding in the dark from my friends. My boyfriend. My parents. My life.

The vibrating of my phone in my pocket awoke me from my reverie. Slightly, I pilled the phone out of my poket and pressed it to my ear. "Hello?"


End file.
